


Forsaken and Forgiven

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Series: #666foryou [354]
Category: Damien (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Post-Series, Religious Conflict, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Resurrection, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: The pendant burned against her skin as she gasped for air.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheOnlySPL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlySPL/gifts).



> Date Written: 23 September 2016  
> Word Count: 983  
> Written for: Lorre & theonlyspl  
> Prompt: The pendant burned against her skin as she gasped for air.  
> Summary: The pendant burned against her skin as she gasped for air.  
> Spoilers: Post-series, taking place within hours of the events of episode 01x10 "Ave Satani." Beyond that, everything we learned in these 10 episodes is up for grabs.  
> Warnings: No standard warnings apply.  
> Series: #666foryou  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Damien," "The Omen," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Glen Mazzara, David Seltzer, 20th Century Fox Television, Fox 21, and A&E Television Networks. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Damien," "The Omen," A&E, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: You know what? I am really fucking proud of this one. My soulsis and I hashed out this whole concept of it being Greta's hand that rose up out of the grave, but not because of God or her faith in Him. No, ours was a far more sinister and spiritually fatal blow to her. And yet, I think it's something that could be entirely canon compliant, given the other risks that Glen and company took with _Damien_.
> 
> Dedication: This is part of a series of stories to thank the phenomenal creative team of _Damien_ , both in front of and behind the camera.
> 
> Beta: theonlyspl

The pendant burned against her skin as she gasped for air. Reaching up with a shaky hand, she tried -- and horribly failed -- to pull it off. The pain was reaching unbearable proportions, but every effort to remove it resulted in further pain.

At first, she thought the pain was simply a matter of one of the points of the crucifix digging into her skin, forced there in her efforts to dig her way out of the cloying suffocation of the grave. But as she lay there in the dew-laced grass, the pain grew steadily. It radiated out from that small two-inch area of skin in ever-increasing waves of agony. It didn't feel like any kind of scrape or cut; the sensation was far closer to a burn.

She remembered the day she'd tried to save a young man in Serbia from a severe demonic possession. It was, and remained to the present, one of the worst possessions she'd ever dealt with. The exorcism was far from successful, and would always count as her greatest failure. Even her attempt to save Damien Thorn was not as great a disaster because Thorn still lived. Miro, the young man in Serbia -- she remembered all too well the irony of his name meaning peace -- was so in thrall to the demons, he willingly set himself on fire to end the suffering. She'd received several second degree burns in her efforts to douse the flames and save his life and his soul. When the flames eventually burned out, all that was left of him were bones and the crucifix he'd worn. The crucifix she'd had cleansed and added to his rosary, which she'd carried on her person from that day forward as a reminder of her failure and her renewed desire to save as many lost souls as she could.

This pain in her chest came closest to those burns. Taking a deep breath, she clawed at the crucifix again, not caring if it burned her hands or not. She had to remove it, cleanse the taint of the dirt from that wound on the world from the sanctified metal. It had to be the dirt causing the burns. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fought the pain to remove it.

Movement in the corner of her eye tore her focus away from the task at hand. He stood above her, blood painting his smiling face into a demonic rictus. And then he began to laugh as he watched her writhing about on the ground. The more he laughed, the hotter the crucifix became until she swore it was molten against her skin, and she screamed in agony between ragged, tortured breaths.

He crouched down next to her, still laughing, and she could see the demonic light in his eyes. One hand reached out to rip the crucifix from her body, just the barest of flinches contorting his features as he held it in his fist. "This is no longer your refuge," he said with a low growl, and she could hear the _other_ in his voice. "God has forsaken you for failing _again_ , but my father? He allowed you to be born again to serve Him." He tossed the crucifix onto the grave, then offered her a hand. "Take my hand and be raised up to serve me and my father. Simone was resurrected through me, and now you can be, too."

She stared up at him for several minutes, terrified of what he said, what he offered her. The tears came, hard and hot, as she curled in on herself to face the grave that truly should have been hers. Her thoughts went to the four nuns and Amani, all four dead to allow this man to ascend to a position that would bring about the end of the world. So many more deaths would happen in his name in the days and months to come. She stretched out a hand to take back her crucifix, but the shock of pain from touching it only confirmed his words. Pulling back her hand, she sees the mark burned into her palm.

"Come, Greta, you know the truth in my words. That burn should be proof enough for you to see it. Accept that you have fallen from God's favor, only to rise in my father's. You can put an end to the patriarchy, teach the truth of enlightenment to the world, and convert the people to follow us. This is everything you have wanted but been denied by God. My father will support you, reward you for your service. Don't deny what you now know is true."

She cried, but didn't fight when he took her hand, the burn fading to the shiny pink of a new scar. And then he touched her chest, and she felt the agony melt away, knew that it would look the same way. His hand stayed on her chest, palm heavy against her sternum as his fingers splayed out toward heart and collarbones. The dull ache in her chest grew in intensity for a moment or two before fading away.

"H-How?" she asked, voice rough from tears and screams.

His smile softened. "You know how, Greta. You're too smart to play the fool." He offered her his hand again. "Take my hand and stand with me. You know it's the only way."

She hesitated, hoping against hope that God would make Himself known to her and forgive her, but the seconds ticked by without a single flicker of acknowledgment. Succumbing to tears of defeat, she closed her eyes and took his hand. He pulled her up slowly and pulled her to his chest to hold her close.

"It's all right, Greta," he murmured, the words barely heard over the beating of his heart beneath her cheek. "You will be greatly rewarded for your acceptance and future service to my father."


End file.
